This diner is a charming time capsule of Chennai’s ’90s Chinese food

When the diner Canton first opened in 1995, it was among the first to introduce a generation of Chennaites to what was then simply called “Chinese food”. Thick gravies, garlic-heavy sauces and glossy noodles were staples that built a loyal clientele. Back then, these dishes weren’t about authenticity; they were about an Indian imagination of China on a plate.

In a city obsessed with reinvention, this diner chooses to stay the same, and that’s precisely the point

The pandemic forced its shutters down, but the restaurant resurfaced in Teynampet again this year. A few months on, in a city where pan-Asian menus keep getting sleeker and more global, Canton remains a time capsule. It still serves the food you remember, the food that shaped how the city first tasted the Orient.

Step inside and nostalgia hits before the first bite. A Buddha statue sits quietly at the entrance, a symbol as familiar as the red accents and fonts that once defined Chineseness in Indian restaurants. Back in the late ’90s, this was how you signalled an “authentic” experience, through décor and symbolism as much as taste. And for many, that memory hasn’t faded.

We first tried the Great Wall chicken soup. Boiled chicken and mushrooms float in an oyster sauce base, laced with green chillies added right at the end, so the heat never overwhelms but instead adds a quiet depth rather than a sharp spike.

The Cantonese kimchee is nostalgia fried into a nest of crisp noodles, sparingly topped with vegetables and coated in a tomato-forward sauce that skews sweet. It’s a dish built for children, or for grown-ups who’d like to be kids again, best eaten immediately while the crunch still holds.

For something bolder, we tried the dimsum in garlic sauce, which leans into thickness, its wrappers hugging a modest filling of onion, cabbage and carrot. The sauce is deep red and glossy, just as it was in the early days, when a fiery colour was the first promise of flavour. The dragon prawns are in the same league, fiery, crisp and familiar, a dish that has barely changed in 20 years, and perhaps shouldn’t.

We tried the Shanghai popcorn chicken next, the city’s guilty pleasure made official. Bite-sized, cheese-filled chicken balls vanished like Tic Tacs; it was impossible to eat just one.

We ended the meal with the Yun mein noodles. They may look plain, but are quietly complex, cooked three times, one of which is a stir-fry that lends uneven textures, soft in some bites, crunchy and umami-rich in others.

Meal for two: ₹1,000. From 12 pm to 3 pm, and 7 pm to 11 pm. At Canton, Teynampet.

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